Marionette
by treeson
Summary: Love, love, and butterfly wings. And anything, anything but Bellatrix.


_Harry Potter and characters are not mine, only this plot._

_Warnings for implied torture, rape, etc. All implied. Umm... Also, she is a bit... OOC, having been tortured for a while now with a few visits from the lovely Bellatrix. It may seem convoluted but it's all in her head except things in quotations. You may recognize some things... ah, fuck. Just read it. _

* * *

She holds her head high, because she has nothing left.

She holds her head high, even though every part of her is shaking with fear.

She holds her head high, dreamy gazes and freckles and silver hair.

She holds her head high, hunger clawing, clawing at her stomach and mouth watering for a drink of anything but her own blood.

She holds her head high, though her clothes are ripped and torn and soiled and dirty like her.

She holds her head high, silly crushes and straight hair and envious glances.

She holds her head high, answering "No, they will not come for me."

She holds her head high, and does not flinch from the pain of the gaping wound in her chest.

She holds her head high, though she has been violated in every possible way.

She holds her head high, _Eeeney Meeney Miney Moe._

She holds her head high, and though she can barely see out of bruised and blackened eyes, she sees his amusement.

She holds her head high, because she has nothing left.

She holds her head high, a rich accent asking if she liked her first kiss.

She holds her head high, nothing could stop the inevitable and she will meet it soon.

She holds her head high, _You failed all your exams!_

She holds her head high, and says "We accepted this possibility."

She holds her head high, because she does not care about the matted blood in her hair or the rusted liquid in her mouth.

She holds her head high, punching prats felt good.

She holds her head high, feeling as if every emotion has been drained from her.

She holds her head high, love, love, and butterfly wings.

She holds her head high, _Ready or not, here we come!_

She holds her head high, righteous anger gathers in her chest.

She holds her head high, ignoring the stabbing pains in her wrists and ankles from too tight shackles.

She holds her head high, because she has nothing left.

She holds her head high, the highest score in Charms in fifty years.

She holds her head high, a filthy thief of magic.

She holds her head high, and her parents fill her memory.

She holds her head high, and smirks, "I will never tell."

She holds her head high, red-haired jealousy disperses with chocolates and giggles.

She holds her head high, though his high laugh makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

She holds her head high, still hearing the whispers of the other prisoners far, far below in the darkness, darkness, darkness.

She holds her head high, she will not be afraid when every other part of her is.

She holds her head high, maybe Crumple-Horned Snorckacks are real.

She holds her head high, because she has nothing left.

She holds her head high, she would like that.

She holds her head high, _Bake me a cake as fast as you can._

She holds her head high, tongue moving thickly, "It won't do any good."

She holds her head high, a mutated cat in the hospital ward.

She holds her head high, she will face her cruel destiny.

She holds her head high, and remembers the smell of freshly mown grass.

She holds her head high, plans and tactics and butterbeer over Unforgivables.

She holds her head high, every part of her numb except her will.

She holds her head high, Gamp's Law of Elementary Transfiguration.

She holds her head high, because she has nothing left.

She holds her head high, crying in the bathroom, the beginning of it all.

She holds her head high, pain in-between her thighs flares and she clenches her teeth.

She holds her head high, a nest of Nargles in her hair.

She holds her head high, a defiler of magic.

She holds her head high, Norbert is a Norberta.

She holds her head high, and feels no regret.

She holds her head high, dreams and fantasies and children's songs and peppermints and Crookshanks.

She holds her head high, anyone, anyone but Bellatrix.

She holds her head high, piercing gray eyes and a sneer used to be her biggest problem.

She holds her head high, another slice, another spurt of blood.

She holds her head high, she will give no satisfaction.

She holds her head high, because she _knows_.

She holds her head high, "Yes, I think I am far superior."

She holds her head high, because she has nothing left.

She holds her head high, a stabbing pain in her neck and he laughs as she falters.

She holds her head high, and narrows her gaze.

She holds her head high, a wand tapping, tapping, tapping against his hand.

She holds her head high, a ghost of caress, a gentle touch that makes her heart beat faster.

She holds her head high, a mother's voice cooing and patting her head.

She holds her head high, waiting, waiting.

She holds her head high, listening to the soothing beat of her heart.

She holds her head high, because she has nothing left.

She holds her head high, pointing, pointing that wand at her face.

She holds her head high, messy black hair and a dopey smile from a ginger-haired boy.

She holds her head high, and hides behind years of training.

She holds her head high, half-blood, half-blood, half-blood, half-blood.

She holds her head high, and smiles when he shrieks.

She holds her head high, Bellatrix, Bellatrix, give me Bellatrix.

She holds her head high, smiling, smiling.

She holds her head high, and watches, watches.

She holds her head high, _One, Two, Buckle my shoe_.

She holds her head high, because she has nothing left.

She holds her head high, a Gryffindor.

She holds her head high, and juts her chin out proudly.

She holds her head high, tap, tap, tap against his hand.

She holds her head high, eyes flashing with annoyance.

And she does not drop his red-eyed gaze.

"Are you going to kill me or do I have to do it myself?"

She holds her head high, because she has **everything** to look forward to.

Her shoulders drooping, her head falls to her chest, as if the strings that had been holding it aloft were suddenly cut.

**Finite. **


End file.
